sottise en quarantaine

Bumblepuff · Dec 29, 2011

Great Blunders In Marketing

Meet the Cheddarwheel family of Atlanta, who stopped to pose for a promotional
photograph while visiting a shopping mall to spread the wonderful news about
the healthy benefits of cheese. The National Cheese Council wants Americans to
be aware that many people are calcium-deficient in their daily diets. In order to
provide a valuable source of this essential mineral the National Cheese Council
is promoting the use of cheese hats for easy, painless and uniquely fashionable
absorption of calcium and other nutrients via the skin on people's scalps. As the
head cheese of his family Charles Cheddarwheel frequently arranges joint appear-
ances with the National Dairy Council to explain the importance of cheese and its
fascinating history. Charles has the full support of his charming wife Velveeta, son
Monterey Jack and two daughters, Colby and Swissy. Velveeta conducts cooking
classes on how to prepare delicious meals featuring cheese, and she is currently
negotiating a cable television contract to appear weekly on the Cheese Channel.
Monterey Jack is a gifted prankster and knows when to cut the cheese for best
comedic effect. Though younger, Colby and Swissy are expected to age properly
under the attentive supervision of their loving parents. Not pictured are their two
pets, Cheese Doodle, a curly yellow haired poodle who is currently recovering at
a veterinarian clinic after a recent hit-and-run accident by the driver of an Italian
deli pizza van, and Cheesy Weesy, a butterscotch calico cat who loves to nibble
cheese, even to the point where the Cheddarwheel family must hide mousetraps
baited with cheese or else Cheesy Weesy will paw at the pieces for himself. While
busy dispensing choice morsels of fun facts to feed audiences, the Cheddarwheel
family respects the rights of fanatical strict vegans and those with hypersensitive
lactose-intolerant milk allergies who are envious they cannot indulge in new moist
gourmet cheeses. In an ongoing effort to coordinate fashion sense with common
sense the National Cheese Council advises all Americans that cheese hats should
not be worn during hot summer days as otherwise the cheese will melt to make a
fondue hairdo. The cheery Cheddarwheels tip their tasty hats to all. Say CHEESE!

Bumblepuff · Dec 29, 2011

Bat Boy is frightened out of his wits at what is coming in 2012. Although
he lives in a deep cave protected from barbaric hunters and has stocked
massive supplies of dried mosquitoes, he is completely unprepared for the
inevitable uncontrollable sudden frantic onset of panic sex, for he has not
yet entered pubescence and is very perplexed by strange new sensations
he experiences while watching bat girls fluttering around scantily clothed.

Bumblepuff · Dec 30, 2011

Phineas Quartz was the inventor of the flying pet rock, a short-lived fad outlawed
immediately after its introduction due to unforeseen consequences. To understand
why, the early years of Phineas must be explained. Phineas Quartz was born psychi-
cally gifted and developed his powers of telekinesis from infancy to transport toys
into his crib. To entertain himself as a tot Phineas levitated his toys and household
objects. His youthful experimentation caused no end of astonishment and irritation
when disruption of his concentration by an angry parent or guest broke his mental
focus, thereby causing any floating objects under his control to crash unceremo-
niously onto hard floors, which was never pleasant for Phineas's bottom when the
shattered objects were priceless fragile heirlooms. His unique talent of manipulating
objects from a distance caused problems with other students in school when he hid
their toys during nap time, especially if a teacher found the missing toys stuck in a
bathroom toilet. Phineas pulled many pranks leading befuddled observers to suspen-
sion of disbelief as they saw heavy objects floating around as lightly as butterflies
where ever he mentally directed their movements. This hands-free feat continued
for several years until Phineas was caught shoplifting candy in a grocery store. His
insatiable sweet tooth was to blame, for he had brazenly attempted to transfer big
boxes of candy and gum out through the store's main entrance but was spotted by
a cashier. Thereafter Phineas was punished whenever he used his telekinetic power,
so he suppressed it while outdoors in public or if he was being observed at his work-
place employed as a certified company accountant. One dismal Saturday as Phineas
telekinetically skipped stones across a tranquil pond to knock frogs off of lily pads,
he spotted a brilliantly colored rock that perked up his spirits. He enjoyed this rock
so much he brought it home with him and nicknamed it Steiny. Then weeks later on
a sunny Sunday afternoon when he had regained his confidence, he tied a rope to
Steiny and took his pet rock for a walk through the city park where some children
saw it and were entranced, begging Phineas to let them have their own. Phineas was
happy the children were friendly and not nasty like adults, so he told them to return
to the park the next day to receive their unusual pets. That evening Phineas collect-
ed various colorful small rocks, securely tied twine around them and then transferred
a portion of his telekinetic essence into each rock. All arose within the room like teth-
ered helium balloons. The next morning Phineas gave his amazing levitating rocks
to the children who were immensely delighted and set about playing with their pets.
That evening Phineas was arrested by police who accused him of inciting criminal
mischief; they told him that the children's flying pet rocks had literally gotten out of
hand and caused broken windows, dinged doors and countless bumps and bruises on
people and pets who were hit by the uncontrollable airborne objects. Civil lawyers for
companies and families suffering damages demanded that Phineas pay steep fines
and serve time in prison. Phineas was forced to use his life savings to post bail, and
after fleeing from angry parents outside of the jail, he went into seclusion inside his
home to await trial. However, the stress was so burdensome that in desperation the
following morning Phineas tied Steiny to its leash and the other end around his neck
and walked to the edge of a deep swimming pool. Phineas tenderly held Steiny in one
hand and tearfully shared his last moments with his precious companion before tele-
kinetically snapping a photograph from a camera he had set up to record his suicide.
Later in the afternoon during routine maintenance to clean the pool filters, a pool
serviceman discovered his corpse tied to the rock. Due to suspicious circumstances
involving previous incidents with dangerous flying rocks, investigators could not rule
out murder by rock and therefore placed Steiny in quarantine. Their efforts to inter-
rogate the rock were met with stony silence, so they sent Steiny to a penitentiary
to be broken into bits by a chain gang as punishment. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
Steiny's end was one bad bust. Thereafter only gravity-bound pet rocks were legal.

Bumblepuff · Dec 31, 2011

Wally Baud of Atlanta is ready to face the menacing threats from malicious cyber-
pirates who plan to disrupt and destroy the American Internet Way Of Life in 2012.
Wally has coordinated a secret underground resistance movement in his mother's
basement which is equipped with a compact refrigerator, snack bar and dedicated
phone line to order pizza. During the green shoot weeks of 2011, Wally upgraded
software filters and installed impregnable firewalls to safeguard his sophisticated
computer system, and he covered the basement ceiling with multiple layers of tin
foil to shield his subterranean central command station bunker from dangerous EMP
blasts, radioactive nuclear fallout and his annoying little sister Emily. Wally believes
there will be imminent massive attacks on the Internet throughout 2012, instigated
by Chinese communist agents who will deviously infiltrate American financial institu-
tions, order merchandise from online retail shops using American citizens' accounts,
sabotage eBay auctions by sniping during the final seconds, and worst of all, block
access to World Of Warcraft multiplayer sessions so players cannot level up their
RPG characters to obtain magic spells and bonus points. Wally has spent countless
hours memorizing DOS commands and archaic computer codes because he believes
the Chinese cyberterrorists will use obsolete methods forgotten by most American
computer users in order to hack networks and blindside vulnerable unsuspecting web
surfers on FaceBook and Twitter. Although jaded detractors bemused by Wally's odd
obscure warnings and inconsistent postulations ridicule him frequently on Internet
message boards and call him nasty names such as "Wallaby", "turdpuck", "dorktard",
"pwned tool" and "that Internet tough guy", Wally is not intimidated by their persis-
tent disparaging remarks and has this to say to his belligerent stalkers: "I am Wally
Spacewalker, a mighty cyberwarrior! I wield the sharpest sword and quickest wit!
I fear no keyboard commandos, for they are wussy losers! I am the master of my
domain! My mighty mouse can smash the meanest butt-ugliest troll! Hear me click!"

Bumblepuff · Dec 31, 2011

________________________________

"Thanks for inviting me back, Rosie. I didn't expect to hear from your manager after
that incident backstage when I had to fend off your other guest's pesky Chihuahua
who tried to run off with one of my ankle bones. Damn mutt. That wasn't part of my
Bare Bones diet, which by the way is not popular with obese bipedal bovines and
hippos. I'm not picking on you specifically, Rosie, but I see a large herd out there in
your studio audience contentedly chewing on their cud with extra butter. I hope no
idiot yells 'FIRE!' and causes a stampede to the side exits, which reminds me that
you really don't want to be in the way when the insane hair-on-fire panic inflames
the global markets next year. The crash will be totally awesome and blood-curdling.
Since I don't have any blood, I'll miss the visceral frisson, but you might even burst
a main artery, you lucky girl. By the way, the talking horse you had on yesterday's
show was really lame, but I must admit I'm impressed at how much your audience
sucks up to your bad taste. You can beat a dead horse only so many times before
it's just skin and bones. Heh, I know what I'm talking about. You asked me to make
some predictions for 2012, but I'm not sure you want to hear them in excruciating
detail. I've watched the stream of psychics, scientists, celebrities and moonbats
give their predictions for next year, and after hearing their fervent forecasts, I am
absolutely positively undoubtedly convinced all of them need to have their medi-
cations adjusted as soon as possible before innocent people take them seriously
and drink the tainted Kool-Aid. Savvy? Even though you've run through the routine
prediction gamut with the personal lives of other celebrities, I'll reveal my special
prediction just for you. You may not like what you hear, but I must elucidate these
psychic vibrations reverberating in my spinal tap. Okay, listen up. I see you getting
preggers after a brief lapse of insanity when you become momentarily heterosexual
in your delusion of burqa bliss until Ellen Degeneres slaps you silly and you come to
your senses, divorce the Islamic cleric with the goatskin jumpsuit fetish and streak
naked through a mosque at sunrise, but I won't spill any more lentils concerning the
confusing camel confrontation and climax which leads to sudden marital separation
due to your husband's heinous transmogrification by emotionally unstable pissed
off space aliens who look like pigs yet are actually reptilian toadstools. Weird, huh?"

Bumblepuff · Feb 19, 2012

"Howdy, stranger. Presently I'm back from the past of my future. I can't explain the
details right now because you wouldn't understand but mostly because I gotta lay
shoe rubber to my trike pedals and hightail it to the gridlocked intersection with the
malfunctioning traffic lights because there's gonna be a humongous crash in several
minutes generating a cacophony of excruciating agony and uncontrollable screaming!
Hoo-boy! I wanna see firsthand with my own eyes the traumatic catastrophe which
will change the course of American history and allow my stack of Executive Orders
to be enforced with extreme prejudice under martial law! I'm so excited about this
imminent splatterfest I could pee my pants! If you've got any common sense, you'll
skedaddle in the opposite direction pronto unless you enjoy being chased and maced
by pedotazing police! As for me, I know exactly how things will play out, so I plan
to stick around near the gruesome scene while the blood coagulates. For the record,
I'm not responsible for any future shenanigans here in cyberspace. I wash my hands
of this place since the Skittles I ate made my handlebars sticky. Hey, I need a clean
machine to win the big race! Well, it's been nice not knowing you. Vroom-vroooom!"

Bumblepuff · Feb 20, 2012

"Today is Presidents' Day, a special day to remember our rich heritage and to honor
the great men who were elected to lead our nation through times of war and peace,
poverty and prosperity, bad times and good times. We're in the comfort zone now
thanks to my wisdom and foresight, and I'm sure you don't want a new unseasoned
unskilled Executive Captain steering the good ship USS Freedom into treacherous
waves of uncertainty. I envision the coming day when there will be a great woman
elected as President, but not yet, at least not until I'm ready to leave. For the time
being the focus of Presidents' Day is upon doddering white men who wore silly wigs
and drank too much and did silly scandalous stuff. Is this obsession with previous
Presidents truly a beneficial use of our attention and limited resources during this
period of global financial instability and escalating political tension? Nope. I hope to
change this stagnant holiday next year after you've reelected me to serve a second
term. One year from today Presidents' Day will be officially renamed as Obama Day.
After all, I am the only United States President who has any real string-pulling power.
My predecessors are either dead or senile old farts puttering inside retirement homes
and sticking their noses where they don't belong. Right, Jimmy? Obama Day will be a
definite improvement over Presidents' Day. Not only will my holiday be easier to spell,
but there won't be precious time wasted regarding proper placement of a possessive
apostrophe. Elimination of that squiggly mark and subsequent reduction of five alpha-
betic letters used to print the name of this holiday on calendars and office schedules
will save our government billions of dollars. Of course, the savings will eventually be
passed on to your progeny, I promise. Obama Day will be a truly wonderful holiday,
much better than Martin Luther King Junior Day because there will be sweet perks
and prizes, and it won't be as freezing cold as January either. No Americans will have
to work, unless they want to do so without getting paid. But what fun is that, huh?
I have more good news for my obedient patriotic servants. If you can provide valid
documentation that you voted for me in the upcoming election, then you will qualify
to receive a substantial cash bonus sometime during next year to spend as you wish!
However, I heartily recommend that you mail your tax-deductible donations or send
online electronic bank transfers to First Lady Michelle in order to help fund my two
daughters' college tuition expenditures and dowries for future weddings. Better yet,
make pilgrimages to the White House and deposit your donations and valuable gifts
in the designated collection bins at my new magnificent Shrine of Dreams currently
scheduled to open the week I am sworn in on Inauguration Day during January 2013.
Give until it hurts because you won't gain without pain. Bless me so I can rule Earth."

Bumblepuff · Feb 21, 2012

In preparation for the grueling campaign trail this year Hillary Clinton leans closer to
hock a good luck loogie into President Obama's right ear as a time-honored tradition
involving quaint superstition, old-fashioned whimsy and peculiar sexually repressed
inbred partisanship to ensure that Obama will effectively block bombastic barrages
from the conservative right yet remain intimately open to helpful hints and sweet
suggestions from the liberal left. President Obama does not mind following through
with this viscous Democratic ritual if Hillary and his other hygienically clean lackeys
perform it, but during campaigning in Southern states Obama will order his Secret
Service agents to remain on full alert to keep him at safe and sanitary distances
from every greasy redneck Democratic incumbent, smarmy election official and
scuzzy white trash supporter who chews tobacco, a gooey brown substance that
when spat will quickly dissolve expensive and delicate aural surveillance devices.

Bumblepuff · Feb 22, 2012

__________________________________________

"I'm voting for President Obama in the next election because he is the shining light
of my life. Barry is so handsome, a sensuously sculpted hunk who is my endearing
inspiration, the eternal essence of enlightenment, and I am blessed to reside in our
nation where he reigns with regal bearing from his lofty dignified brow down to his
cute squiggly piggly wiggly toes. Every morning when I awaken from my romantic
dreams about snogging with my ebony emperor I cringe inside to know that those
precious dreams are just ephemeral notions, fleeting faux illusions which forlornly
dissipate into faint memories. My first ritual of the day is to slink up to my vanity
mirror and smooch the smooth glass and pretend I am tenderly kissing his plump
purple lips as I relish warm fuzzy tingles scooting through my pulsating feminine
virtues. I cherish this momentary bliss before I must dress myself to engage in
mundane matters with moronic meatheads in the meat world. Each day I struggle
to concentrate on my banal routine duties because my soul obsesses continually
over my soft sienna muscled squeeze. Oh, how I crave to be hidden in his strong
manly arms and beating chest! I am extremely impatient for November elections
to be finished, for I passionately pant for the moment next year when I hope to
hug and hold my sweet Bammy yammy during his second Inaugural Party after
I first lock up his bitch Michelle in the Ladies' Room by bolting the entrance door.
Hee hee hee. Only then can I be sure that I won't be interrupted so I can have
my luscious frosted cream-filled milk chocolate cupcake all to myself! Woof!"

Bumblepuff · Feb 23, 2012

President Obama puts his final touches on hanging up a curtain rod across the
door of the meeting hall where a group of Oregon lumberjacks will assemble later
in the day to hear him give a rousing campaign speech perched boldly atop an
upright wide log after they have finished chainsawing endangered rare conifers
in pristine forests. President Obama is eager to meet these tough hardworking
laborers, and he wants them to feel at ease in the presence of his presidential
charisma without being overwhelmed by his immensely engorged enthusiasm.
Barry Obama has taken extra precautions to be absolutely certain the curtain
fabric is properly color-coordinated so it will not clash with the pastel wallpaper,
ivory satin tablecloths, scented bouquets in ornamental Chinese porcelain vases
and engraved Italian dinnerware because he does not want the interior decor to
distract or disrupt delicate Democratic decorum while he is presenting his inspi-
rational talking points, yet he hopes the multiple overhanging green crepe paper
streamers will subliminally similate the sheltering arboreal canopy of a pine forest
to improve the ambience of the cozy gathering. Barry believes that by adding his
personal touch he will demonstrate his sensitive nature and reveal how much he
cares for his brawny rustic constituents. Ideally he hopes to generate warm fuzzy
feelings of familiarity by providing a comfort zone for the lumberjacks resting after
a tiring sweaty day of clear-cutting virgin timberland and taking recreational pot-
shots at spotted owls. Barry had expensive bonsai pines flown in from Tokyo on a
chartered jet because Air Force One was temporarily unavailable due to new lush
shag carpet being installed inside his presidential lounge and wet bar. After Barry
gives his lofty prominent presentation, he will host an intimate tea party for the
burly lumberjacks as staff members dressed in fetching woollen plaid ensembles
serve imported Brie, chocolate truffles, sliced cucumber sandwiches and steaming
herbal tea to the accompaniment of buffered speakers playing soothing tunes of
Barry Manilow crooning his favorite sentimental ballads. President Obama's next
campaign stop will be at a pinball arcade where he plans to show off his lightning
fast hot moves as America's supreme pinball wizard and light up the blinking game
scoreboards with breathtakingly high top scores and exciting free bonus rounds.

Bumblepuff · Feb 24, 2012

President Obama solemnly stands amidst dusty rubble in the crumbled ruins of what was formerly
Pebble Gulch Central High School in Bullpucky, Texas. According to investigators who interrogated
surviving students and teachers and based upon fragmentary evidence gathered by forensic experts
who searched through smoldering debris containing broken bricks and burned bodies, what began as
an unauthorized alteration of the scheduled cafeteria lunch menu in order to reuse rancid leftover
fried pinto beans and expired spicy hot chili pepper sauce caused an unexpectedly severe increase in
combustive internal flatulence among the young scholastic eaters. The resulting prolific generation of
burgeoning intestinal gases inspired mischievous juvenile pranksters to flick open flames of butane
lighters held in close proximity to exposed cloacae of giggling volunteers. One such silly incident that
unfortunately triggered the massive disaster occurred in a boys' restroom when a brittle side wall
gas line was ruptured due to rambunctious shoving of those engaged in targeting their blazing full
moon blasts. A change in derriere trajectory shot spurting leguminous gases in the vicinity of the
cracked fuel line, thereby igniting leaking natural gas fumes and causing a chain reaction throughout
the entire structure of interlinked foundational pipes resulting in phenomenal explosions which blew
off rooftops, flattened walls and destroyed contiguous buildings, vehicles, trees and other objects
in the surrounding area including the school's famous bronze Bullpucky Cow Pie landmark. President
Obama promised to request emergency funding from Congress, just as soon as he returns refreshed
from his late winter vacation in Hawaii, so that construction workers can rebuild Pebble Gulch Central.
The proposed educational complex will contain improved surveillance cameras, armed school crossing
guards, a rooftop landing platform for helicopters, designated parking spots for SWAT teams, rein-
forced titanium plated bathroom walls and a heavily fortified bunker for teachers in the event that
their penthouse lounge is deemed vulnerable should another conflagrational crisis occur. A newly
appointed federal committee of highly paid employees who specialize in holding meetings in exotic
resorts at taxpayer expense has been formed to determine what affordable preventative measures
will be necessary to avoid a similar megablast of catastrophic kabluey that might interrupt President
Obama's important vacation schedule. In the meantime nonhospitalized students and teachers have
been relocated to a vacant shopping mall in order to continue their education, and ex-TSA workers
with minimal criminal convictions have been hired to screen all drinks and foods being consumed on
the premises, especially those brought by poor handicapped children clutching lunches in paper bags.

Bumblepuff · Feb 25, 2012

________________________________________________

"We're really pumped up about this important election year because we plan to vote
for Barry to keep him in power for at least four more years! We are a sensitive gay
couple tickled pink that President Obama instinctively understands and supports our
alternate lifestyle and abnormal recreational pursuits. He is a wonderfully flexible
leader who will bend over backwards to meet our needs, a fighter for our right to do
unmentionable things in the privacy of our lavish bedroom and basement dungeon of
leather lingerie and kinky sock puppets. We're organizing a Rainbow Rally on Sesame
Street in March to let Barry know just how much the Muppet gang loves him! We
mailed a personal invitation to the White House requesting him to serve as Grand
Poofta in our Rainbow Rally. If his schedule allows him to make a public appearance,
then we'll saddle up Mister Snuffleupagus and let Barry mount him so he can ride at
the head of the Muppet Mascara Parade down Sesame Street. We guarantee he will
get a bouncy wouncy thrill! You're welcome to attend, too, so don't be ashamed of
your orientation even if you're straight. There will be other exciting gay activities at
the Rainbow Rally including a kissing booth to register new voters for the Democratic
Party, a soothing hot tub for big cash donors, Pin the Tail on the Pansy Ass blindfold
game, and Dunk the Dink contest if Beaker doesn't chicken out at the last moment.
Our Rainbow Rally will be a super way to obtain more public donations to pay for the
President's escalating campaign expenses. This fabulous event will expose American
televidiots to the culturally important social advances our endangered kind has made
in our anally repressed nation. For example, Big Bird will finally come out of his cage
closet and Oscar the Grouch will come out of his trash can to be wed in a charming
civil ceremony by Kermit the Asexual Amphibian. Who would have expected such an
odd couple from diverse economic sectors of Sesame Street to bond in Democratic
unity? Certainly not our PBS sponsors and network executives! We hope they'll come
out of their shock soon because we need them to be focused on broadcasting our
reformulated programs for Sesame Street shows so our insipid songs and subliminal
skits can more effectively brainwash children and impressionable adults who still
watch our pretentious prattle every day! Oh, by the way, today's message of hope
is brought to you by the letter O. We really believe in the letter O. O is for Obama
and Oreos and Overcoming and Orange, our favorite color of the rainbow. O is also
a special ring to put around a ding-a-ling! Hee hee hee. We'll let you know about the
other Sesame Street activities we have planned for this year building up to the big
day in November. On election night we plan to hold a fancy Nancy Boy dance and
costume extravaganza with our HIV-positive pals. We'll have a gay old time like the
Flintstones as the votes roll in, and we may permit some celebrity guests to squeak
our rubber ducky if they have clean hands. That's all for now. We've been very busy
today ordering confetti, streamers and whistles. Well, it's time for beddy-bye so we
can play with our fuzzy gerbil we named Barry Boo in honor of our darling President!"

Bumblepuff · Feb 26, 2012

ANIMATED MAMMALS OF THE
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

.
.
.
.
.

cat

.
.
.
.
.

dog

.
.
.
.
.

moose

.
.
.
.
.

squirrel

.
.
.
.
.

weasel

Bumblepuff · Feb 27, 2012

President Obama cherishes the special moments when he can personally thank his
wealthy donors for their financial and moral support. During stressful encounters
contending with antagonistic detractors President Obama is often unnerved by
abrasive petty squabbles of these foul-mouthed bigots who have the personality
and tact of a festering boil on a bare bum. Barack is just a man, albeit a great and
mighty man, so he is mortal like the rest of us common people, and he must have
his free time to get away from the maddening crowds in order to reorient his inner
biorhythms and recharge his charisma. One of Barack's favorite delights is dancing
cheek-to-cheek with intimate buddies, those who willingly provide soft comfort of
warm muscular shoulders to lean upon when he is weary of the dirty campaign trail
of musty dust bunnies. Another benefit of this male bonding is to take a welcome
break far away from his cantankerously nagging henpecking wife Michelle. If you've
ever wondered why the First Lady takes frequent lengthy vacations separated from
her husband, wonder no more. The answer is obvious unless you are oblivious. A firm
kiss on the lips and a quick pinch on his partner's tight butt adds that missing spark
to the President's life that was extinguished long ago in the First Couple's bedroom.
While the Secret Service is busy monitoring the discotheque for potential sequined
terrorists, Barack will give them the slip and sneak off with his eager partner to an
isolated corner stall in the men's restroom where he will shut the door and then---
[****************************************************************
****************************CENSORED****************************
****************************************************************]

"Stop right there! That's enough, Bumblemuff! Your twisted attacks on my husband
are unwarranted! Barry is not a sissy gay effeminate wussy brown nosed queer! He
is from strong masculine Kenyan stock with a noble Muslim heritage going back for
generations of beating and whipping defenseless little boys who were suspected of
defiling the sacred tenets of Muhammad, blessed be his rough manly whiskers! Who
gives you the right to disparage the President of the United States of America? My
dear Barry is the greatest leader who has ever lived! You are a nobody, a fragment
of excrement unworthy to breathe American air or touch patriotic soil in the United
States! Cease posting your callous crap immediately, or I'll have the administrators
and moderators ban your ass forever! Why don't you just copy and paste recycled
e-mail jokes like other members do? It's easier and floods this website with more
mediocrity that entertains the sheeple on this forum! Nobody wants to read your
silly shit anyway! Last year you posted over four hundred worthless captions with-
out once mentioning the wonderful accomplishments of Barry, but this year you've
suddenly turned treasonous and have blatantly stuck your cyber finger up Barry's
integrity! You are less than a grotesque oozing pimple on the swollen broken nose
of a homeless drunken derelict! Leave this respectable adults-only forum and do
something useful like playing on a busy interstate highway or taking a long jump off
a short pier into a dry lake bed, loser! Your obstinate independence in defiance of
banal conformity is wrong, wrong, wrong! This is your first warning, Bumblemuff!"

Bumblepuff · Feb 28, 2012

Bumblepuff · Feb 28, 2012

White House officials announced today that President Obama's most recent
Executive Order has successfully finalized adjustments of necessary require-
ments in his last will and testament so that the White House, its furnishings
and all contiguous properties will be bequeathed to his wife Michelle if some-
thing unforeseen happens to him. In the event that the First Lady is unable
to inherit the White House their daughters Sasha and Malia will immediately
assume possession of said estate secured by irrevocable blind trusts until
they attain legal age of maturity at which time they can choose to auction
off everything to the highest bidders. Future elected Presidents and their
families will be permitted to lease the White House from Obama during their
elected terms in office with deductions taken from their official salaries yet
are restricted from supplementing their incomes by renting famous rooms
such as the Lincoln Bedroom to cronies and foreign dignitaries, which shall
remain the exclusive right of President Obama and his family unless special
favors and concessions are made in advance. First Pooch Bo will be allowed
to romp and poop on the White House lawn whenever he pleases, but future
presidential residents will be held responsible for cleaning up all his messes.
Priceless paintings, rare documents and other historical artifacts will remain
in the White House until Barack Hussein Obama decides to retire at which
time these items will be moved into his new Executive Mansion, a luxurious
domed palace and mosque currently under construction and funded by the
budget surplus, for there is no need to let unallocated money go to waste.

Bumblepuff · Feb 29, 2012

___________________________________

"I'm so enthusiastic about President Obama running for re-election that I'm gonna
vote early and vote often just like the deceased denizens of Chicago! What works
well in the Windy City should work even better in Washington R Too Dee Cee Pee U
because there's a massive mound of monuments of dead leaders who will give their
adamant support to the greater goad. I predict a laxative landslide of mudslinging
proportions! I promise a mud pie in every pot! How does mud soup sound, Pig-Pen?
I have dozens of loyal sock puppets who cling closely to my every beckoning fetish
and will selflessly stretch their canvassing to include Laundromats! You gotta admit
that's a very bold action for sock puppets! Their expertise in exposing codswallop is
unparalleled and more effective than bashing smilie icons with dead fish! When my
sock puppets are not preoccupied unraveling a plethora of dangling threads entan-
gled within a myriad of dangling chads, they keep my toned toes toasty warm and
in tippy top tutu tulip condition. It's a known fact that nine out of ten sock puppets
eventually get hung out to dry after getting dunked in the wet world wide washtub.
I think Barry would look really cute in a bunny suit with big floppy ears. Some folks
think his wife looks like a Wookie, but that's ridiculous. Wookies don't wear makeup
when they make up tall tales about politicians who make up after they make out
with opposing parties at parties of opposites posing as partisan party poopers. If I
sound repetitious, it's because I suffer from redundancy. If I sound repetitious, it's
because I suffer from redundancy. President Obama will continue as the Enigmatic
Emperor of Ephemeral Embolisms and Emphatic Enemas! By the way, if you're very
disturbed that I'm spouting quaint profundities with cryptic references beyond your
ken, don't worry, because I don't have a clue either! Whenever you feel blue or red
or even mixed purple, just stand up and shout 'Oh Bama Rama Ding Dong Bama Bo'
in a packed mosque during prayers, and I guarantee this will reinvigorate your basic
instinct for survival! I feel like a healed leper leaping with joy and playing leapfrog on
the leap day of a leap year! I'm sure glad Obama's national health care plan provided
the proper medications for my risible condition! By the wayside, here's a new jingle I
wrote for the White House barbershop quartet to sing at all his televised campaign
locations: 'Barry's cheeky stubble leaves his aftershave opponents in the rubble!'"

Bumblepuff · Mar 1, 2012

President Obama glanced back at an indentation in the grass on the golf course
because he thought he heard faint screams and yelling that seemed to be ema-
nating from the surface of the turf. Perceiving that this odd aural occurrence was
probably not a caddyshack woodchuck prank, he peered closer and was surprised
to see a small depressed spot within the sod containing miniature angry Lilliputians
on whom he had accidentally stepped due to his intense concentration on breaking
par. The Lilliputians argued heatedly among themselves whether Barack Obama was
a careless Brobdingnagian out of his element or just a stupid and rude inbred Yahoo.
Unknown to the First Golfer, the irate Lilliputian survivors are planning to sue him for
millions of dollars in compensation and will seek reasonable legal services of a wise
and knowledgeable Houyhnhnm, whom they believe is nearby because earlier they
had encountered a monumental outcrop of pungent equine apples while trudging
through the weedy edged rough at Gulliver's Golf On The Gulf. Unknown to the livid
Lilliputians, President Obama is planning to order his Secret Service agents to walk
over and stomp out the remaining litigiously inclined Lilliputians. Due to this minus-
cule incident in his busy vacation schedule, President Obama will take a mulligan.

Bumblepuff · Mar 1, 2012

Bumblepuff · Mar 2, 2012

"There is a fifth ascension, beyond that which is known to common manipulators.
It is an ascension as vast as the stars and as timeless as the pyramids. It is the
middle stepping-stone between brilliance and banality, between supremacy and
servitude, and it lies between the sheep dip of man's foolishness and the smug
summit of his sinister enslaver. This is the ascension of cancerous corruption
and unimaginable megalomania. It is an area which we call The Obama Zone."

Bumblepuff · Mar 3, 2012

_____________________________________________

"I am looking forward to the day when my body is finally freed from these binding
restraints so I can place my absentee ballot for President Obama, a man possessing
entrancing charisma and devious intelligence, a man after my own heart. President
Obama is my separated soul mate enthroned upon the multicultural stratified pyra-
mid of American society. Obama understands my needs and dark desires, for he can
easily slither to my level because it's second nature to him, like a scorpion stinging
a cricket or a slinking lizard shedding its scaly skin in readiness to gorge on worms.
Of course I'm not saying Obama is a shape-shifting reptilian or even a painted box
turtle plopped upon a wooden fence post on the highway to hell. Heh. It's a mystery
to me as to why some of you people get such weird ideas about this man. I believe
with all my combined split personalities that Obama is sympathetic to the mentally
deranged because he has appointed many raving lunatics to wreak revenge under
his corporeal supervision. Call me crazy, but I am totally convinced that the Great
Impersonator will win the next election by an unstoppable landslide with maximum
collateral damage to shocked and bloodied citizens who vainly thought their paltry
opposing votes could stop his juggernaut aimed straight for the exposed jugular of
lax Lady Liberty. After my Kenyan King empties prisons and asylums, I shall rejoice
in my emancipation from my constraining chains and make up for lost time. Ha hah.
I plan to attend the glorious ceremonial Democrats' Victory Roast to be held in the
White House. A festive Victory Roast sounds really tasty, and by the time the pork-
bellied pukes are sipping their wine glasses and stuffing their cavernous maws with
moist caviar, I will be absolutely famished! If Barney Frank attends without his part-
ner, I expect he'll want the first dibs on plump wienies and rump roasts. That's okay.
I will settle for a thick juicy prime rib, a tender upper cut from the upper crust of the
upper trussed. To the winners go the spoils, to the losers go the spoiled leftovers!"

Bumblepuff · Mar 4, 2012

With classic coolness President Obama emerges from the gravelly trail on which
he has been gaily pedaling in the Fur First Bikeathon sponsored by People for the
Ethical Treatment of Animals in order to raise new funds and public awareness for
neglected and endangered species inhabiting the temperate forested regions of
North America. President Obama believes that all indigenous animals of the United
States must have rights just like humans, even more so because they are defense-
less against the brutally evil people who kill them just for sport and entertainment.
Thus, it is entirely understandable that his Secret Service handlers will not inform
him about the numerous incidents during his adventurous trek over the designated
PETA path on which he obliviously rode over five fat toads, four scaly snakes, three
blind mice, two fluffy bunnies and a rare albino baby skunk which could not scamper
off in time before his tire tread squished her dead. President Obama hopes to enter
more PETA bikeathons because he believes he is making an important difference in
saving harmless little creatures, but First Lady Michelle has already taken merciful
precautions by scheduling his summer vacation in advance with golf matches and
other silly playful pursuits in protected zones monitored by animal rights activists.

Bumblepuff · Mar 5, 2012

Bumblepuff · Mar 6, 2012

"The cost of our national health care plan won't break your back, but it won't heal it
either based upon our previous erratic track record of gross incompetence. Laughter
is the best medicine. If you laughed at my opening line, then you're already on the
road to recovery. I know unexpected disasters can set you backwards into a never-
ending spiral of burdensome debt, but don't worry, be happy that if I am reelected
for four more years, I won't be as hopelessly befuddled by increasingly complex
health care regulations beyond my limited disabilities to comprehend as I am now
during my first term in office. Put on a happy face like me and laugh at your troubles.
Har-dee-har-har. Our health care plan is so hilariously convoluted that it will keep
you snickering in stitches, which we recommend getting removed before you die
from laughing since this surgical procedure is not covered under the comedic clause
appended on All Fools Day. Our health care plan provides free antiseptic brainwash-
ing followed by zombie-tested injections of complacency and obedience. Health care
costs are not free. You cannot make an omelette without breaking some eggs, but
it's more cost-effective for us to kill the goose that lays them and then bill you later.
I scream, you scream, we all scream for my health care dream. Screaming is invigo-
rating and helps improve blood circulation, another benefit of our health care plan.
If at first we don't succeed in persuading you to voluntarily accept our mandatory
health care plan, then we will cram it down your throat after our blue pills knock you
out cold. It's much easier that way. Our health care plan will let you safely experience
the American wet dream without all those nasty diseases, the disgusting disfiguring
ailments you saw projected on film during school health class which grossed you out
and turned you off before the classroom lights were turned back on. We have psycho-
tropic drugs to help you get over your chronic traumatic reactions, and if you cannot
afford redundant treatments and exorbitantly priced prescription meds, we have an
easy major-pain-minor-gain installment plan transferable to your children if our finan-
cial interest charges are too overwhelming for your limited budget. And last but not
least, please remember to smile because your government loves a cheerful loser."

Bumblepuff · Mar 7, 2012

_______________________

"I strongly urge you to reelect President Obama, for we need a leader with strong
urges to maintain obsessive control over Big Brother operations including the Trans-
portation Security Administration. In my duties as Secretary of the Department of
Homeland Security I must juggle dozens of controversial incidents and lawsuits in-
volving mistaken identities and obscene groping by perverted TSA thugs and then
have the whole mess resolved before the prime time televised news is broadcast so
that the TSA will be exonerated by our subservient media puppets. President Obama
needs greater cooperation from you to achieve change. We need four more years of
his reign so the TSA can continue its purpose of in-your-face intimidation and under-
your-underwear infiltration. You know why you are called sheep? Because sheep are
dumb. You won't do anything except yak-yakity-yak and post moronic comments on
Internet forums. You are wasting your time which is okay with us. After hearing you
blabber and bitch about your rights, I'm reminded of monkeys bickering over bananas
in a zoo, yet you are not as entertaining because the monkeys usually get bored and
scamper off to play, but you stuck-in-a-rut sheeptards just don't know when to shut
the hell up! Well, President Obama knows how to enforce the rules of silence which is
why our nation needs his sovereign guidance for another term. The TSA will require
more upgrades in surveillance equipment including wider scanners for fat slobs, more
hidden microphones, biometric analysis modules and high-powered stealth weapons
that will shock the shit out of disobedient cretins who dare to question our authority!
Airplane passengers complain that government officials are given special treatment
and never have to suffer the humiliation and physical discomfort unlike the average
traveler who is fondled by perverted TSA goons. There is a reason for that. We are
above the law; you are not. To submit to invasive TSA searches is your civil duty.
President Obama wants you to submit, and I want you to submit. You are not truly
patriotic until you submit. Only then will you gain enlightenment and begin to per-
ceive the awesome wisdom of the great Barack Hussein Obama. With the threat of
domestic terrorists in the guise of handicapped old women in wheelchairs and little
boys carrying plastic SpongeBob lunch totes, the challenge to protect our nation is
greater than ever before! Our motto is search first, ask questions later. And should
there come a time when the First Family must be screened for their safety, I shall
personally volunteer to perform thorough body pat-downs and cavity searches on
his sexy wife and darling daughters because I pride myself on being a conscientious
servant who always uses squeaky clean latex surgical gloves, not those cheap and
scratchy Chinese imports that leave unsightly rashes and blisters after use. Among
TSA workers I'm known as 'Magic Fingers'. Leave the probing to us professionals!"

Bumblepuff · Mar 8, 2012

"Wow, that was sure one big pileup! The results will reverberate up to November
causing an even bigger pileup! Hahaha! Since I was too busy to chitchat last time
we met, now I can say a few more things. One of the fantastic benefits of time
travel is seeing how previous mistakes could have been prevented by analyzing
divergences within separate time lines. In case you were wondering why I am so
young instead of middle-aged, it is because I went back further into the past of
my childhood and returned back to the future on an alternate reality shift so that
I could reenter the time machine as a little boy and invert a linear sequence back
to 2012, which allows me to move about freely. Nobody recognizes me. To adults
I'm just a young mouthy punk unworthy of their attention so they ignore me. Best
of all, I am safe from news reporters and paparazzi. Clever, huh? Although I can't
change what will happen this year, my presence as an observer will let me absorb
critical insights for future plans after I step out of the chronoflux chamber of the
time machine in my bunker. No, not the bunker in Denver, and not the other one --
the other, other one. I won't give details because it'll spoil the surprises coming in
2013. Don't you just love surprises? I sure do, especially when they're on you! I'll
leave it at that, 'that' being a vague nondescriptive demonstrative adjectival teaser.
Hee hee hee. Time travel won't be possible until after 2012, so I plan to make up for
lost time this year. Oh yeah, baby! I should have changed the little things that stick
out with unwanted media focus, like that photograph taken when I wore a silly blue
helmet and rode a girl's sissy bike. I realized it was a mistake, but I was only doing
what my wife told me, so blame her for making me look like a wuss! Another thing I
wish I could have changed was my birth certificate. Quarreling with my detractors
over proof that I popped out of my mama's warm oven in an American kitchen was
an enormous waste of my time, energy and money. It's just a damn piece of paper!
If it hadn't been for the determined maneuvers of my phalanx of skilled lawyers to
block every attempt to uncover my shrouded Kenyan birth, I would have stressed
out on the golf links and stroked out with triple bogeys! In hindsight I should have
hired an expert graphic designer to make a perfect forgery of my birth certificate,
the best that money could buy. With current technological advances in computer
enhanced multilayering and tricky technical stuff like that I could have bamboozled
my enemies and avoided all that nasty unpatriotic backlash white trash said about
me. Allowing my staff to hire a sloppy incompetent hack with inadequate skills to
properly use modification software was careless on my part, and I paid the price
with a slight drop in public opinion polls. Other than that it was no biggie. Obviously
I should have destroyed many more original documents and altered official records
leaving no paper trails, but it doesn't matter anymore. You wanna know why? Sure
you do. Well, I won't resign because winners never quit! I yam what I yam, and I
ain't no small potato, so eat my dirt when I peel off, sucker! Vroom-vroooom!"

Bumblepuff · Mar 9, 2012

Bumblepuff · Mar 10, 2012

"I been real busy with my job at the pet cemetery and wasn't up-to-date on politics,
so when I heard some dog mourners at their pet's burial plot talkin' about a big politi-
cal event, I leaned over on my shovel and listened in. They was sure excited about
a rally for Obama and wished their dog Bosco was still alive to bark and wag his tail
in support, but every dog's got his last day when he don't hunt and chase no more.
Milkman Dan gave Bosco one last thrillin' chase right up till when he run him over.
Anyway, the dog lovers said I was welcome to attend the rally, so after I finished
buryin' a heap of critters put to sleep by the local animal shelter in an unmarked
pit, I washed myself and got dressed up special before headin' into town. When
I got near the Obama rally bein' held in a McDonald's parkin' lot, I heard thumpin'
drum sounds blastin' from speakers. I didn't know what kind of music it was, so I
started whistlin' Dixie cause it's a happy tune of hope. Just as I got to the edge of
the crowd a gang of colored folks started pointin' and yellin' at me. When I waved
and smiled back, they got even madder and cussed up a storm. Then one of 'em
pulled his knife on me! I got real nervous and said I came cause I was just curious
about the rally and if citizens wanted to break away from Alabama and form a new
state called Obama, Uncle Sam would put a new star on our nation's flag cause it's
writ down somewhere in the Constitution. I told 'em the smilin' colored man on their
posters could be a good governor, but the northern states would get huffy, and it'd
prolly lead to another civil war. I thumped my chest and said I was proud to show
my Confederate roots and wasn't gonna let them damn Yankees whup our asses like
last time. Well, that's when they went apeshit and rushed me! Before I could scram
to safety, I got hit hard and everything went tar black. I woke up the next morning
beside a garbage dumpster, stripped down to my underwear, bruised and sore all
over. I know I shoulda been better informed and not made such a fool outta myself
at the rally. I learned the hard way that Obama's a Democrat runnin' for re-election,
not a secedin' territory, and I gotta be real careful about what I say to strangers.
Hmm... Guess I'll never find out what happened to my white robe and pointy hat."

Bumblepuff · Mar 11, 2012

________________________________________________

"I'm too young to vote for President Obama, but he sounds okay cause my Dad
said he's like a turtle on a fence post. I like turtles. I don't know why anybody'd
put a turtle on a fence post cause he'd be stuck and helpless and a target for
mean bullies throwin' stones or maybe a hawk swoopin' down to grab him and
peck his eyes out like I seen on TV. My pal Wally said that's how little pets go
missin', but sometimes coyotes get 'em first. I don't like coyotes. If I had rope,
I could make a ladder for President Obama's turtle to climb down. If that won't
work, I'd borrow Wally's pool air mattress and the turtle could jump off. Umm...
Maybe turtles can't jump. I dunno. Well, he'd have to roll sideways or somethin'.
Even if he misses and lands on his back, he's got a hard shell so he'd be alright,
unless he lands on a rock and splits apart or gets snatched by a coyote to eat
for dinner if the hawk wasn't hungry. I dunno. When I grow up to be President,
I wanna have lots of turtles in the White House. I'll let 'em crawl over rugs and
floors, even out to the Rose Garden. My Mom says the Rose Garden's a pretty
place with flowers but every so often a nasty brown snake shows up to give a
speech. I'd warn my turtles to watch out for that snake. If I put a turtle on a
fence post, he could be our lookout. Maybe that's what my Dad meant about
President Obama, that he's high above keepin' a lookout for enemies, maybe
space aliens that eat human brains or baby turtles. I dunno. I like snakes, but
not if they swallow turtles. In the White House I'd have a special bathtub with
shallow water so my turtles could splash and have fun, but I wouldn't put 'em
in the indoor swimmin' pool cause it's too deep and they might drown. Besides,
that's where I wanna put dolphins. I like dolphins. I hope they don't eat turtles."

Flippper · Mar 12, 2012

In the White House I'd have a special bathtub with
shallow water so my turtles could splash and have fun, but I wouldn't put 'em
in the indoor swimmin' pool cause it's too deep and they might drown. Besides,
that's where I wanna put dolphins. I like dolphins. I hope they don't eat turtles."

Turtle soup. It's what's for dinner.

Bumblepuff · Mar 12, 2012

The Teletubbies Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa and Po adore President Obama because
he uses teleprompters which they adore even more, for the electronic flat screens
give them tingly Tummy Time. Tummy Time is similar to Timmy Time in sheep mode
and directly correlated with Couch Tuber Time. The Teletubbies have several posters
of Obama's teleprompters hanging on their bedroom walls and have built a tiny shiny
shrine. They wish to light candles to honor their technologically marvelous idols, but
because their spongy costumes are extremely flammable, they are forbidden to use
matches or lighters. However, on occasion they are permitted to play with flashlights
if they promise not to swallow the batteries. When the Teletubbies mail fan photos to
their favorite teleprompters in the White House, the envelopes are always returned
because the four friends have no concept of affixing postage stamps for delivery and
being illiterate, they are unable to print the proper address. The Teletubbies could
be successful in communicating with their beloved teleprompters if they uplinked
over the Internet, but since they are still learning basic functions of their body parts,
the wonderful world of wireless networking must remain a mystery for now. Last year
when the Teletubbies heard that one of President Obama's favorite teleprompters had
toppled over before a speech, they exclaimed "OH-oh!" and fainted. Fortunately, it
turned out that the turned over teleprompter suffered no breakage or malfunctions
of internal components, so when informed of this good news, the Teletubbies danced
a delightful duo tango but accidentally tripped over the hose of Noo-Noo the vacuum
cleaner and caused his filter to back up which resulted in a very expensive repair bill.
Whenever President Obama gives a speech broadcast over the television networks,
Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa, and Po cuddle up in front of their telly and make bubbly
gurgling sounds and interject intonations of "ooh" and "aah" in synchronicity with
President Obama as he turns his head from side to side while reading his prepared
text scrolling on his teleprompters. The Teletubbies are gleefully entertained by his
bobbing noggin, much more so that when they watch Queen Elizabeth on the telly
because she is royally stiff like a plastic mannequin, and sometimes they fear she
has become a lifeless mummy until she turns a page or waves her hand, and then
they sigh with relief and hug each other. The Teletubbies wish they could warmly
hug President Obama's teleprompters on the other side of the pond but can only
view them from far away in Teletubbyland, and they thank their lucky nubbies that
President Obama makes frequent speeches with his trusty teleprompters for they
think his televised appearances are part of a regularly scheduled boob tube show.
The slow movement of Obama's head shifting from right to left to right to left as he
progresses through his monotonous propaganda casts a mesmerizing spell on the
four colorful chubbies, and after contentedly watching Obama drone on and on for
several minutes as they respond saying "Ooh... ahh... ooh... ahh..." in measured
cadence with his set motions, they fall fast asleep like many American viewers do,
yet in contrast to the apathetic colonialists, the Teletubbies experience warm and
fuzzy feelings. Ignorance is bliss for imbeciles. As strange as it seems, household
appliances crave job security and become irrationally jealous of undivided attention
given to outsiders beyond their domain including pompous presidential pretenders.
Such is the case in Teletubbyland, for after Obama's teleprompters are unplugged,
Noo-Noo plugs in and makes loud sucking sounds south of the border to wake up
the Teletubbies so they will play with his buzzing nozzle. Ooh... ahh... ooh... ahh...

Bumblepuff · Mar 13, 2012

Bumblepuff · Mar 14, 2012

What began as a moderated temperately seasoned political debate between close
companions quickly deteriorated into a heated bombastic quarrel which catapulted
the contenders onto the lowest level of intense primal rage after Gordo insisted that
President Obama's inspiring speech of sharing the wealth was directly proportional
to the biomass ratios of constituents which is why he had heeded his dear leader's
words and taken them to heart or more precisely to his belly, having eaten most of
their daily bunch of bananas for breakfast, leaving just a few bruised runts for his
buddy Bones to nibble. Initially Bones had insisted that distribution of wealth must
be allocated based upon worthy job performance and generous social altruism, but
Gordo scoffed that such balderdash was crazier than a barrelful of zookeepers on a
late night drinking binge inside a lions' den. After enduring a continuous barrage of
crackpot theories and sophomoric platitudes flowing like fetid effluvia from Gordo's
banana cream pie hole, Bones had had enough, and his inner composure snapped
into bitter pangs of loss. He lunged for Gordo's throat yet realized he was too late
to recover the wealth in edible form. Therefore, Bones is making certain that the
obese glutton swallows a handful of elephant laxative pills so that his enjoyment of
wealth will be short-lived and soon freely spread across the floor as something less
valuable than originally gained and more likely to get him stuck in solitary confine-
ment by their simian overlord with a queasy constitution when he returns later as
scheduled and sees nauseating evidence of their polemically loosed fecal debacle.

Bumblepuff · Mar 15, 2012

___________________________

"Hi there! Great to see you again! I'm Hugh from Happy Hippo Trading! It's sure
been a hectic beginning for 2012 in the turbulent global stock markets! With a
big upturn in the American economy as promised by President Obama, I have
renewed hope for our nation, and I want President Obama to remain in office for
another term, even longer if he can keep our economy chugging along depend-
ably like DOS 6.22. My partners Hummer and Hugo at Happy Hippo Trading are
making more money than ever for our clients since President Obama made his
kinky pinky promise with Ben Bernanke to have Federal Reserve tugboats tow
the USS Titanium to safer waters before the grease from Greece spills into the
Sea of Finance and causes cross-cascading defaults and humongous debtbergs
that could scuttle antsy European bank barges and force their leaking financial
institutions to drift helplessly into a terrible whirlpool of neverending derivative
penalties. But I'm not worried because I believe Captain Barry will steer our over-
loaded Ponzi-insured vessel away from high tsunamis, sea monsters and grubby
pirates, especially the nasty tattooed buggers plundering profitable cyberspace
websites like ours. I truly appreciate Captain Barry's awesomely stern command
because between hacking black box short selling programs and lucrative insider
trading accounts, playing Slim Sim games, surfing pygmy porn, my ballet dancing
classes and ordering fast food deliveries for our office, I'm a busy busy dude who
needs to focus on the really important stuff to make big bucks for our expanding
customers. Endless quantitative easing is the only viable solution to prop up our
wobbly financial system, and I see clear cyberskies far ahead if Microsoft doesn't
screw up their next OS release before the Chinese steal it. Me and my buds are
gonna throw a huge fund-raising pizza party for President Obama this weekend.
If you want to get involved, send your e-mail to hugh@happyhippotrading.com.
We're gonna pig out in sloppy style! Best of all, it's BYOB: Bring Your Own Belly!"

Bumblepuff · Mar 16, 2012

"Crewman Obama, you know that your document won't pass the sniff test at Starfleet Command.
It's as phony as a Klingon tattoo on a Vulcan hooker!"

"But Captain, I had to empty my savings account and take out an additional loan of 80,000 credits
to obtain the best replication available on the black market. I've always dreamed of being a star-
ship captain, and I just can't wait two more bipolar solar years for my background to be thoroughly
checked by invasive internal probes. Please overlook my miscalculation, er, ignorance, sir."

"Sorry, crewman, but I have a stellar reputation to uphold, and my moral imperative is to fight
injustices and insidious lies which could jeopardize my ship. You will be escorted to sickbay for
observation and then quarantined in the brig until a security officer hands you over to Andorian
authorities at the nearest asteroid outpost for dishonorable discharge."

"Dang, that'll put crimps in my pumps! *sigh* Well, I suppose it's better than being sent to a hemor-
rhoid outpost for fecal discharge."

"Hmm... Smarmy scatological sarcasm: another sign of capriciously irreverential mental instability.
I wouldn't be surprised if Doctor McCoy diagnoses you as being incurably anal-retentive."

"If I may speak freely, Captain, I do feel a bit constipated after eating those Medusan moon berries
in the mess hall."

"You doofus! Those were poisonous Romulan buster clusters set out to bait tribbles! Sheesh! It's not
too late to take corrective action. Just make sure you're seated in the right place at the right time."

"Understood, Captain! I am prepared to evacuate on your command! Please feel free to lend your
helping hand!"

"On second thought, don't go to sickbay. Report immediately to the transporter room and have
Scotty beam you down to the unchartered planet we are orbiting. Mister Spock informed me that
our ship's sensors cannot penetrate its dense atmosphere so I want you to investigate its terrain
firsthand. You can bring along a brown paper bag lunch in case you get hungry, but don't take any
weapons because I want you to demonstrate pacifistic vulnerability should you encounter unpre-
dictable irrational aliens with grotesque fangs and claws. But don't worry, you are wearing a red
shirt, and I can assure you based upon Sulu's best wild guess that this vibrant color will intimidate
and possibly even frighten off unknown monsters infesting the planet's surface, unless of course
the creatures are color-blind. I am confident you will do whatever is necessary to survive in your
lust to gain more power and control to become the first Starfleet Emperor of our galaxy."

"Aye, aye, sir! I'll do any duty to save my booty!"

Bumblepuff · Mar 17, 2012

Bumblepuff · Mar 18, 2012

"And now, boys and girls, I have turned to a very important page in one of my most
favorite books. You must pay attention because what I have to say will affect your
future. I am your great leader, very smart and well-educated. I do not need a tele-
prompter to teach your class. I hold this book with complete control, for I am the
master of reading fundamentals. *ahem* You can pick your nose later, Marcus;
please don't eat it. Sam, don't look at the photographer; she's not important; look
at me; I'm important. Brittany, you're a pretty girl, but this is not the time to apply
lipstick and mascara. Fernando, please don't worry; I promise I won't check to see
if you're an illegal alien; relax, you're here to learn. Sally, don't scratch down there;
if it itches, see a nurse about special girl needs after I've finished my presentation.
Listen, you children will not get your milk and cookies afterward if you keep acting
like children. Marcus, I said don't eat that booger! Okay, now that I have your full
attention, I want you to focus upon this page. Here you see a handsome picture of
myself showing you how to lift your hands high above your head. Spread your arms
wide apart with open palms. This is the safest and quickest way to surrender to any
invading Chinese troops who don't speak English or Spanish. Raising your hands will
let them know you are not a threat and are willing to be led quietly into their forced
labor camps to work on special projects to build a new America. Do not resist or run
away! Legally you are minors and must obey what adults say, especially if they are
pointing high-powered rifles at your faces. And here's another helpful hint: If your
mobile phone rings, do not reach into your pocket to pull it out or else you will be
considered dangerous and shot on sight. Personally, I recommend presetting the
options for all phone calls to go directly into voice-mail to avoid nasty surprises."

Bumblepuff · Mar 19, 2012

___________________________________

"As a lifelong loyal Democrat hoping to extend voters' awareness among different
ethnic groups and religions regarding the important choices for America's future
which must be made in the November elections, I feel compelled to solicit Muslims
in my city to join our righteous cause to get President Barack Hussein Obama and
his fellow Democrats reelected because he and his lackeys are tolerant of Muslims'
strict uncompromising hatred of those who will not submit. Barack Hussein Obama
is very concerned about prejudiced dimwits who slander and libel Islamic religious
traditions and misogynistic customs. Barack Hussein Obama is infuriated that many
ignorant Americans wrongfully blamed and persecuted ragheads for the tragic day
on September 11, 2001, when thousands of Muslim citizens dwelling and working in
New York City suffered severe respiratory ailments and expensive dry-cleaning bills
for their clothes which were damaged by thick dust and debris from the collapse of
the Twin Towers. This terrible calamity was not the Muslims' fault. It was Bush's
fault! Ever since Barack Hussein Obama has been President of the United States,
Americans have been safe and free from attacks by terrorists. Do you want four
more years of peace under our benevolent leader or are you foolish enough to take
a chance with a crazy old cracker from the evil Republican party? I have prospered
under President Obama's reign. My daily job at Katering King pays very well, and I
often wear my fuzzy pig costume to show American Muslim customers that domes-
ticated American pigs are friendly and will never blow up their homes, schools and
mosques while their women and children are praying to Allah. Although the Muslims
I have approached spat in my face and frequently beat me senseless, I have never
complained, and if not too incapacitated from injuries, I submissively crawled back
to their houses to leave informative brochures detailing President Barack Hussein
Obama's policies on tolerance and peace. This evening I am giving a free puppet
show for the Muslims at my neighborhood mosque, and I hope to make a lasting
impression. I have created a new theatrical presentation entitled 'Reelect Oinky
Doink Obama'. I will be manipulating my cute little piggy finger puppets Huggy,
Tubby, Flubbit and Orlando to humorously skew President Obama's inspirational
message of hope and change with songs, belly dancing and dramatic recitations.
As proof that change is possible under President Obama I have fashioned tiny wool
burqas for my piggy puppets to wear in a hilarious cross-dressing comedic skit, and
I have invented a new pig call which mimics the sacred Islamic adhan backwards.
Impressive, huh? Tonight I hope my Muslim audience will find my wiggly piggly acts
more entertaining and thrilling than a bloody jihad! I'm so excited I could squeal!"

Bumblepuff · Mar 20, 2012

"I am Amabo, the supreme ruler of another planet in another galaxy in a parallel
universe in another dimension beyond the interstellar satellite transmissions of
syndicated Twilight Zone episodes. I am revealing myself to you in this critical
year of 2012, as predicted by the mysteriously cryptic etchings on the Mayan
stone calendar in which I am described as the entity from outside of time and
space who will bring a message of hope and change essential for the spiritual
evolution of selected human inhabitants on Earth. I am not President Obama nor
his cinematic cyan avatar nor his alter ego who overdosed on blue auto engine
coolant during a bogus microdot acid trip. I am Amabo, a transcendent being of
superior intelligence and wisdom, urging you to reelect Barack Hussein Obama
as President of the United States of America in the northern hemisphere of planet
Earth in your solar system within the Milky Way galaxy. I speak not as a moody
snooty Smurf nor as a loquacious anthropomorphic mutant blueberry, but as a
friendly salient alien. My skin is blue because I am from an ancient race geneti-
cally programmed to swallow big blue pills of conformity and perfect obedience.
We are at peace with one another on my paradisial planet, for we have no wars,
no fighting, no quarreling, no sorrow and most importantly, no mimes who engage
in ridiculous gesticulations to disrupt our deep inner meditations to achieve higher
consciousness. Many fickle anemic obtuse white people in the United States are
continually confused due to their feeble attempts to construct truly independent
thoughts and are therefore in dire need of a strong leader who will bring meaning
to their pathetic fragile materialistic snow domes of suspended pretentiousness
and conceited fantasies. You must wake up and smell the sulfuric acid! President
Barack Hussein Obama is the chosen one, a demigod without disfiguring blemishes
or duplicitous desires, a superhuman being like unto myself who has no reason to
show his birth certificate as empirical proof of his innate greatness. If you vote for
this marvelous magnificent mulatto to control your nation's destiny for four more
years, wonderful things will happen to your planet. The troublesome greenhouse
effect will dissipate, polluted rivers will teem with fish, filthy urban ghettos will
transform into beautiful ornate castles, the deserts will bloom with a rainbow in
every lush garden and a unicorn in every pasture, and that is just the beginning!
President Obama must be reelected to ensure your peace and prosperity, for he
shall usher in a new age of ecstatic bliss. However, if you vote against President
Obama and deny him his lawful right to overrule your rights and change your life,
then you will suffer the consequences of stubborn resistance which I do not need
to elucidate because your own sadistic police officers will readily provide intimate
demonstrations of persuasive weapons of mass compliance. From out of the blue
I give you this clue: Live long and serve Obama. Na-Nu Na-Nu Klaatu Timbuktu!"

Bumblepuff · Mar 20, 2012

sottise en quarantaine

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Time Traveler

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB

Has No Life - Lives on TB